The Wolf Among Us
by Vagus
Summary: A girl is missing. A man is charged. Her reappearance into his life pried at old wounds while others were buried further underground. Darker fic.
1. Trail

**I would like to interrupt you for just a moment.**

First, thank you for giving my new yarn a look. If you are someone who can read _anything _and found yourself intrigued enough by the summary then go right ahead and skip this author's note. However, if you consider yourself sensitive in any way and are here to enjoy sweet stories with kind characters and happy endings, I suggest you close the tab. I'm not going to spoil it for those who prefer not to know what they're in for but please take heed that this is not a story for the faint of heart.

I figure there must be others out there like me who find themselves curious about what unsettling places the Dragon Ball universe can go. If I'm wrong, and the only one who really asked for this story is me, I can accept that and return this short piece to the dusty archives.

TL;DR: this fic leans dark. If that's not your cup of tea, hit the X. No hard feelings - I'll see you on the next one.

Also: title inspired by the Telltale video game of the same name. Was a great game, too bad the company went belly up :(

* * *

"Just a minute," Goten called after the second series of knocks, chin pressed to his chest as he fumbled with his button down and hurriedly stuffed tired cotton into the feathered waist of his dark slacks.

The knock came again, this time harder and more pressing.

With an exhale, Goten conceded, hands and belt buckle dropping simultaneously so all three slumped towards the passage floor. Heading for the door, his eyes flicked to the clock face hanging near the apartment entrance. Quarter-to-eight, it said. He didn't have time for interruptions and he definitely didn't have time to deal with whatever new emergency arose at the neighbour's today.

As he opened the door, he reminded himself to be firm this time. He'd been far too accommodating in the past; they were beginning to resemble the stray animals that hovered around his childhood mountain home.

"I'm sorry but I don't-" Goten broke off as soon as he registered two men standing in the doorway, stern, sturdy and uniformed.

"Son Goten?" the first said. It was posed as a question, but each watched with a calmness that suggested there was no uncertainty behind the query.

After a few heartbeats, Goten's already open mouth began to stir back to life. "Good morning, officers," he greeted after clearing his throat. Stepping outside, he pulled the door with him, catching the wandering eye of the second policeman.

Goten glanced around the hallway, seeking signs of anything out of the ordinary. "Has something happened?"

He didn't remember hearing any disturbances during the night and he should have been relieved when he found nothing of note.

The officers exchanged a momentary look. "We have a few questions for you. Can we step inside?" One edged towards the door.

Goten grabbed the handle from behind his back, guarding the entrance. "Could we maybe do this later?" he said. "You've caught me just as I was about to head out."

"I'm afraid this can't wait, Mister Son." The policeman pulled a white A5 card out from his leather folio. "We're here on an urgent matter and I'm obligated to tell you that if you're not willing to cooperate, we'll be forced to continue this down at the station."

In his periphery, Goten registered the careful opening of his neighbour's door, a lone eye peeking through the narrow slit.

Goten lowered his voice. "What exactly are you saying?" He cast another glance towards the eavesdropping neighbour. "You're arresting me? On what grounds? You haven't even told me what you're here for."

"Do you recognise the person in this picture?"

What Goten initially thought to be a card was indeed a photograph, now held up to his line of sight and transfixing him instantly to the hallway carpet. The rising ire from their unexpected arrival ground to an abrupt halt as the hairs on his neck stood straight and his stomach sank towards the underground parking garage.

"I…" Goten attempted a swallow but his throat was suddenly dry. "... Yes." His eyes didn't move from the image in front of him, taking in the fine features that had become so familiar over the past few months without him even realising how much his subconscious had quietly been cataloging her face. "I do." He finally broke out of the hypnotic spell, looking from one policeman to the other. "Why?"

"Please, come with us," one replied.

* * *

The low, cyclic churning of industrial dryers pulsed in his ears as Goten closed his eyes and leaned the back of his head to the laundromat window. Outside, he could hear the steady song of a never-sleeping West City transmitting through the glass. Car wheels were turning over wet asphalt while raindrops bounced off sentinel streetlights.

He reached for his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette, letting it dance between his fingers for a few idle minutes before heading for the door.

Ducking left, he slipped into the neighbouring alleyway, out of the pool of light made by the street lamp and sure to obscure the stick with his free hand while he lit the end without any aid from a lighter.

Goten let out a long breath, coiled muscles in his shoulders releasing while heavy eyelids drooped.

A set of heels clacked against damp concrete, approaching him from around the corner.

_It's a bit late to be out alone, isn't it?_

While she neared, Goten watched the space she'd soon cross, bored, and a little curious.

As soon as she came into view, a pair of black eyes were on her and the woman started, emitting a shriek.

Goten said nothing, offering no more than a faint smile. She didn't smile back, and he didn't miss the hurried pace with which she continued walking.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time - there was still fifteen more minutes to kill. With another puff of his cigarette, he flicked through his inbox.

During his scan, Goten registered another approaching group. There were four sets of voices, each with young owners, though he sensed only three individual energy signatures.

_Strange._

Goten snuffed the last of his smoke under his shoe and slid his hands into his jacket pocket, ready to head back inside.

As he crossed the teenagers' path, he felt a strike, like a bolt of lighting, ricocheting from crown to sole. Instinctively, he turned back while all four continued forward.

_Four?_

His ears had not deceived him then, there were definitely four kids. The one at the back, however, was not emitting any ki.

Without thinking, he grabbed her by the arm, admittedly more forcefully than he would have liked. When she spun around with a "Hey!" and briefly panicked recoil, he immediately let go.

"Sorry!" Goten said, showing both hands.

"What's your problem, mister!" The young girl's scowl was fierce, and it was only after a few seconds of staring into electric blue eyes that he realised he'd seen her face before.

His brows drew together, converging in a disbelieving frown. "Bulla?"

Her expression twisted too, large eyes narrowing as she scrutinised the man before her.

"What do you want?" one of the others asked, stepping towards him.

"Bulla, you don't remember me?" Goten ignored the posturing teen, reserving his attention for the girl he hadn't seen a hair of for five years or more. "It's Goten." He pressed his fingers to his chest, causing the leather of his jacket to squeak. "Son Goten."

He saw a flash behind her eyes, and felt a rush of relief when her frosty demeanour thawed just a fraction. Instead of a tick at the end of her mouth, as he'd been expecting - so typical of her father and brother - her face softened, falling into something more obscure.

"Right." She spoke softly. "Goten. You're Pan's uncle."

He realised then why her expression was so clouded when he gave his full name. The tightening in his chest accompanied the matching fade in his own smile.

In an instant, the air went from crisp and fresh from evening rain to thick and restrictive. He tried to settle on what to say next, suddenly full of questions he hadn't even realised he'd been storing away. It seemed pointless bringing up her brother considering Goten saw him in the news every other week. His face filled the kiosk stands, with headlines more than telling enough to keep regular people like him in the loop.

Goten opened his mouth to begin speaking but she cut in at the same time, leaving a croak in his throat where the words would have been.

"We're actually on our way somewhere." She pointed behind her. "I'll have to catch up with you next time. Sorry."

Hands buried in his jeans pockets, Goten gave a nod.

He watched as the teenagers continued without a second thought, Bulla brushing off the unexpected encounter so easily, as though Goten were just another stranger.

It stung.

He cherished his memories of the days when the Sons and Briefs were close as family - laughing together, eating together, fighting together, saving the world together. Even the day of Bulla's birth he could recall so clearly. Pan's too for that matter.

He felt another pang and let out a defeated breath, running his fingers through his damp locks and spinning on his heel to attend to the freshly cleaned linen that was waiting for him inside.

* * *

Goten's cheeks puffed outward as he slowly exhaled, elbows leaning into the unforgiving surface of the frigid interrogation room table. They'd turned the thermostat down, and he was probably supposed to start feeling jittery and compliant by now.

The door opened and Detective Frye returned, a stack of papers in hand Goten vaguely suspected were blank and only present to make him anxious over what could potentially be held within.

"Son Goten," Frye began, deep-voiced, eyes cast towards his sheets. "Twenty-nine year old consultant from… Mount Pow-zu?"

"It's pronounced Paozu," Goten corrected.

"Where is that?" Frye sat down, the scrape of his chair echoing painfully off the walls of the little room when he pulled it out. "Never heard of it."

"Way out east." Goten tapped the table and glanced around the space, wondering how much longer they were planning on having him down here. He'd been waiting for over half-an-hour as it was.

"Small town boy in the big city." Frye stopped shuffling his papers and folded his arms. "What made you decide to move west? You're a long way from home, young man."

Goten nodded. He certainly didn't need the reminder.

"Wanted to get away from the parents?" Frye posed.

Goten shrugged, fiddling with a strip of scrap paper on the desk in front of him. "Not really."

"A job then?"

"Nope."

"Oh, I get it now." A smirk appeared on the detective's face, his mouth partially hidden by a bushy moustache that curled over his top lip. "You came here for a girl."

At this Goten snorted, not even masking the look that said, _Really?_ "More like a boy," he offered.

"Oh." Frye straightened and cleared his throat, evidently sheepish.

"My best friend lived in West City," Goten clarified. "I used to come here all the time to visit him as a kid. I'd always planned on moving here."

Frye wrote that down. "Parents?"

"What about them?" Goten asked. "And what do they have to do with you guys pulling me in here first thing on a Wednesday morning?"

"Easy, pal." Frye displayed an open hand before patting his stack of papers. "I just want to get to know you a bit better. We're trying to gather as much information as possible about Miss Briefs and part of that is tracing her activity."

"Well, you're wasting your time talking to me," Goten said, quickly growing impatient with the impromptu station visit. He had clients to call and promised his boss he'd be back at the office in an hour at most. "We weren't friends."

At this Frye said nothing, watching him with a careful expression Goten suspected was by now a well-practised weapon.

"Weren't?"

"Aren't. Whatever."

"Mister Son." Frye placed both hands on the table, encompassing one within the other. "Numerous sources tell us Miss Briefs was spotted in your neighborhood more than once in the months leading up to her disappearance. Some even claim to have seen her enter your apartment building."

Goten's dark eyes flicked from the scrap between his fingers to the man in front of him. "Wait." The paper floated out of his hand. "She's missing?"

Frye's neutral face turned hard.

"Don't sit there and insult me by pretending you don't know what's going on," the detective said. "It's been all over the news for more than a week now. The Briefs have been appealing to the public to come forward with information every hour on the hour."

"I…" Goten was stuck again, unsure how to process this bit of info without giving the investigator some kind of fuel. He needed to be alone. Right now. "I've been busy."

"Do you have any comments about her activities near your place of residence?"

"No." Goten stood up from his seat, now officially done with the outing. "And the next time you have questions for me regarding the Briefs, you'll be directing them to my lawyer."

* * *

_What are the chances?_

Despite still living in the same city as his once-beloved second family, Goten hadn't crossed paths with a single one of them in more than half a decade. For one, the city was large enough that he rarely bumped into anyone who actually stayed in the same district as him, let alone those who owned real estate on the opposite side of town. More importantly, as out of practice as he was, Goten could still sense ki and didn't doubt that they could too. It was easy to avoid someone when you knew they were coming.

As he stared at his ceiling, taking in the dancing shadows of evening city lights and the steadily expanding patches of lurking moisture, he considered the starkly divergent paths the two families had taken in the preceding years, as well as the catalysts that drove them apart. Even now, years on, he preferred not to think about it.

_She's grown up so much._ He shook his head. _I can't believe it._

How old had Bulla been the last time he'd seen her? Her family took such care to keep her sheltered from the limelight, he wouldn't be surprised if it had been the last time he'd been at the Briefs' mansion altogether. He had vague recollections of hanging around their oversized pool. Pan would have been thirteen back then, he realised, which placed Bulla around twelve.

_Pan's uncle._

That's how Bulla had referred to him that evening. Apparently that's all she'd ever known him as. He supposed he shouldn't take it too personally. By then, he and Trunks were already pulling apart and he wasn't coming over all that often anymore.

As the young Son dozed, mental fetters loosening one-by-one and lowering him carefully into gentle slumber, something occurred to him: When he grabbed her earlier, in the alleyway outside the laundromat... she'd been scared. He saw it in her face for a split second, and he smelled it lingering in the air even minutes after.

Sure, he'd caught her by surprise but -

_Bulla Briefs is a Super Saiyan, _Goten thought, perplexed. He'd seen her transformation himself when he was a teen. _What could she possibly be afraid of?_

* * *

The days following the station visit were a blur. Goten attempted a resumption of his regular routine but he couldn't shake her name from his conscience, finding his thoughts drifting her direction any idle moment.

The police had mentioned they'd tried calling her mobile without any luck, but he got the impression they had no awareness of her second number.

As he'd done plenty of times in the last few days, Goten pulled out his phone and went through his call logs, seeing her name all over them. The same went for his text history. Their communication went back months.

This definitely complicated things, and he began to wonder if he should expect another visit. Did her friends know about him? He'd never even thought about it before, foolish as that was.

The knock came five nights later. He was still in his work clothes, sleeves rolled and shirt untucked, when he answered the door.

This time, there was an entire squad waiting outside and as they cuffed him, he saw his neighbour in the hallway, the same one from before, talking to a policewoman with a notepad and relaying some story in great, hushed detail. They paused as Goten walked by and stepped into the elevator, his head tilted downward and hands secured feebly behind his back.

Goten knew he was more than strong enough to break away and bolt, but what would that grant him? He'd only serve to make himself appear guiltier. He decided complicity was the best strategy for now. He'd have to hope they'd be forced to let him go after a day or so for insufficient evidence.

What he hadn't expected was to see a familiar face waiting for him once he arrived.

As Goten was lead through the back of the station, he caught a glimpse of slick lavender hair and a sharp, pressed suit through the window.

Trunks was in the foyer, presumably waiting to see the face of the man who'd been arrested in connection with the disappearance of his baby sister.

"Trunks," Goten said once they'd entered, earnestly as he could manage. "I promise you-"

"Shut up." The leading officer shoved the back of his head and continued driving him towards the holding cells. "You don't get to talk to him."

"Wait," Trunks called out, breaking his conversation and immediately heading towards the group. "Let me speak with him, please." The cops exchanged uncertain glances. "Alone. I'll be fine, I assure you."

After a few silent seconds, a call was made. "Fine, five minutes," the sergeant said. "Someone will be posted outside."

The two half-Saiyans were chauffeured into a nearby room, with Goten lead more forcefully than necessary into his seat. "Don't do anything stupid," the man added before shutting the door, Goten unsure which of the two of them the comment had really been directed at.

"Trunks." Goten tried again once they were alone, locked palms lifting from the table.

"Goten, don't worry," Trunks interrupted, slipping a sheet of paper into his inside jacket pocket. "They've got the wrong guy."

Goten let out a sigh so large, his entire body sank into his harsh, metal seat like one of his mother's failed home baked breads.

"I know we've had our differences in the past, but I also know _you." _

Goten stared into the older hybrid's eyes, his irises clear and piercing like shards of fractured glass_._

"You wouldn't do this. It's not your nature."

Hearing his old friend speak so confidently left him ashamed. Trunks was right, they did have their differences and yet even with their sparse contact in recent years, his childhood conspirator was still willing to believe in him despite the compromising circumstances.

"I don't know how you've been caught up in all of this, but I'll make sure they don't stop looking for the real culprit until we find her."

Goten nodded as Trunks rose from his seat and knocked on the door to be let out. Once he exited, another stepped in to replace him, taking the seat Trunks had occupied just seconds before. It was Goten's lawyer, Quincy Mack.

"Goten. Good to see you." He popped his briefcase on the table, looking a little flustered as he pulled out his pen and legal pad. "I got here as quickly as I could. Was that the brother I just saw walking out? Jesus. What did you say to him? Nothing stupid I hope."

"I... didn't say anything," Goten replied, admittedly a little disoriented himself. "He said he believes I'm innocent-"

"Wait, he does?"

Goten gave him a look.

"I mean of course you are." The lawyer winked. "I'm going to be straight with you, Goten, we've got some work ahead of us. I've got a contact at the head office and word is there's a little video that's just surfaced."

Goten raised a sceptical eyebrow, wondering how things could possibly get worse for him this evening. "What's the video?"

"Footage from the security camera in the hallway outside your door," he said. "Picture this. Young Bulla exits your apartment. _In tears_. Her shirt's undone and she's holding it across her chest as if she's trying to keep herself from flashing the whole freakin' neighborhood."

Goten slumped into his chair, head thrown back as he let out a groan.

"Wanna know something else?" Mack said, dropping his voice. "As of right now, it's the last time the kid was ever seen."

_Fuck. _The half-Saiyan ran both hands up his face, burying his fingers in his hair before sinking into his elbows

"Forgive my frankness, but it's likely you're their prime suspect." Quincy interlocked his fingers on the table, looking Son Goten in the eye without an ounce of his usual jest. "So now you're going to tell me every goddamn thing that happened with this girl. _Everything_. And you're going to start at the fucking beginning."


	2. Prey

**Hey guys!**

Thank you for your support so far! It's really appreciated. I've missed the community :)

So this is not a particularly long fic. After this one, only another 2 chapters to go~

* * *

He was sitting at his kitchen bench, munching on a slice of toast when a faint tap sounded from his front door. Goten paused when he heard it, unsure if it had happened inside or _outside _his head. He sensed nothing on the other side of the wall so shrugged it off and took another bite.

When the knock came again, he paused before padding for the door, feet bare and dressed only in pyjama bottoms as he dusted his hands clean.

Still processing the crispy contents of his mouth, he pulled it open, unable to stop the cough that ungracefully resulted when he saw who was on the other side.

"Bulla," he said into his fist, attempting to prevent his breakfast spraying across her face. "What-" He shook his head. "What are you doing here?" Goten ducked behind the door, checking the time. It was only ten thirty-five. Given their brief, yet awkward encounter the night before, he'd entirely expected to never see her again. "And how did you find me?"

"I said I'd catch up with you later, didn't I?" She stepped past him, inviting herself inside. "Figured you had to live somewhere near that dingy twenty-four hour laundro when we ran into each other last night."

_Right... _Goten nodded slowly still unsure what was happening right now.

"I came back this morning to figure out which building was yours." After glancing around the passage, Bulla blinked. "Are you going to give me a tour?"

"Uh." He hesitated. "Sure?"

Walking the two paces to catch up to her, he pointed to his living area. "Lounge." He directed his arm to the opposite side. "Kitchen." Nodding his head forward, he concluded, "Bedrooms and bathroom."

Bulla poked her head into his spare and main bedrooms before spinning around to face him again. "Not bad for a farm boy."

They weren't even five minutes in and her Briefs blood was showing through clear as glass.

"Not that I don't appreciate the surprise visit, but..." He scratched the back of his head. "Why are you here?"

A girlish smile spread.

_She's a Briefs, alright,_ he thought, noting a familiar spark behind ice-like eyes. _Watch out, Goten._

"I wanted to say hi," she said. "Properly." Bulla wandered into the living area and plopped herself onto his three-seater. "It's been years since I've seen you guys."

Goten followed her, still feeling more apprehensive than he should have given it was his own place. She was a teenage girl, he reminded himself, hardly someone he needed to keep his guard against.

He took the adjacent loveseat, still observing her carefully. "It has been," he said, flashes of many an afternoon spent cavorting around her central city mansion fading in. "How is everyone? Your brother, your parents."

Her affable exterior slipped for an instant. "Fine," she said, taking in the paintings that adorned his walls. Bulla hopped up when she spotted the floating shelf lined with assorted framed photos. "So what have you been up to all this time?"

"Keeping my head down mostly," he said, rising to join her. "Staying out of trouble, stopping in at my mom's when I can."

Bulla wiped a dainty finger over his family portrait, the one taken years before with just his parents and brother.

She continued along the shelf, eyeing a few more before stopping at one in particular. What little warmth had sprouted since her arrival snuffed the moment he saw what she had been looking at.

It was a photo of him, along with his, at the time, six-year-old niece. Pan was sitting on his shoulders while Goten gripped her shins. Both were beaming at the camera, blissful, as Pan held two towering waffle-cones in her tiny hands.

He could see Bulla's eyes resting on the young hybrid and took a step towards her.

"This is cute," she said. "How old are you here?"

"About your age, I guess," he shrugged, watching her again. What was she really doing here? The conversation had been disjointed at best, there had been no 'catching up' to speak of, and there was a solid ten-plus year age gap between them. He wasn't especially sure how to even talk to her.

Bulla turned to face him, loose aqua hair flicking out from underneath her floppy French-style hat. "Do you want to grab something to eat?"

"I've just eaten." He pointed to his kitchen, evidence of said breakfast still present.

"You're a Saiyan." She led him to his bedroom and waited at the door. "You're always ready to eat more."

* * *

Goten and Trunks sat along the grassy bank, flicking pebbles across tranquil surface water while a red sun lowered behind the treeline ahead of them. Neither had said much, each opting to enjoy the ambient nature soundtrack so lacking in their supremely urban backdrop.

At least that's what he told himself.

Truthfully, their ties were growing increasingly strained and the threads holding the two half-Saiyans together were groaning in warning of an upcoming snap.

"Seeing anyone lately?" Goten asked after ten consecutive minutes of silence, flinging a stone to the opposite side of the lake. "I never told you this, but I always envied the absolute tens you used to pull."

Trunks let out a chuckle before swishing his lavender strands back. "Oh, I knew. And not really." He tossed his own stone.

"Why not?" Goten said. "Too busy?"

"Sure," said Trunks. "But not my type a lot of the time."

_Fair enough,_ Goten thought. When you're as sought after as Trunks Briefs, you get to be picky.

The fledgling conversation was speared by the ear-shattering screech of a teenage girl a few hundred metres away. He couldn't make out what the point of contention was this time, but he was willing to bet it didn't warrant the volume.

"We should probably start heading back," Goten exhaled, dropping the dried reed he'd been fiddling with between his knees. "I'm guessing everyone's saying their goodbyes."

As they walked along the spongy path leading back to his mother's house, Trunks paused, gaze on the patch of forest to their right. "Give me a second," he said.

With nothing better to do, Goten followed him into the brush. The older of the two appeared to be following invisible cues along the way and seemed to know exactly where he was going, though Goten had no idea what they were doing, despite it being his own stomping ground.

After a few minutes, Trunks got down on his haunches, eyes on the dirt, and said, "No way," while pawing packed soil. "It's still here, totally undisturbed."

"What is?"

"Our cat."

"What?!" Goten exclaimed, jumping back.

"Relax, she's not alive. I buried her here years ago."

"Dude, why the fuck are you buring your animals in the hills of Mount Paozu?"

Trunks shrugged, unfazed. "Rather your backyard than mine. No one comes out here anyway, man. Don't worry about it. Let's go."

Once the pair approached Chi-Chi's cottage, they were greeted by a shrill, "Leave me alone!" Followed by, "I'm so sick of you and dad commenting on every little thing I do." Fists coiled at her sides, Pan stamped her foot. "Have you ever considered that _maybe_ I'm not as stupid as you treat me? I know for a fact that if I left home right now, I'd do _just fine _on my own_._"

_This again. _Goten suppressed an eye roll.

Pan marched towards the elder hybrids, head still turned to scowl at her mother. When she finally faced forward, she came nose-to-nose with Trunks and stopped in her tracks, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision. All the gusto she'd displayed moments before blew out of her in an instant as she stared at the older Saiyan, eyes wide and mouth still open.

Trunks greeted her with a half-smile and raised eyebrow.

After a few seconds, she collected herself and circled him, continuing her storming.

"See ya, Pan," Goten waved, undeterred by her foul drop in mood.

"Sorry, boys," Videl sighed. "She's at that age." After wiping her hands on the dish towel hanging from her back pocket, she said, "Hey, Goten, you're still young and cool. Maybe she'd listen if something constructive came from you?"

Goten laughed at the notion.

"Pan has never thought I was cool a day in her life," he said. "But maybe you should get Trunks to talk to her instead. Underneath all that pubescent rage, I'm pretty sure someone is harbouring a bit of a crush."

* * *

From the dining table, Goten tapped at his laptop, still hoping to finish off his report while drowning out the occasional crunch from his left as a sloth-like teenager sat on his couch in an oversized sweater and old joggers. She was eating his cereal and flicking through the TV he never seemed to use.

"Don't you have some other sucker's cupboard you can raid on a Thursday night?" he said, keeping his eyes on the screen in front of him.

"Nope," she replied with a mouth full of Cheerios, causing milk to dribble down her chin.

"Really? Not even at a massive mansion in central West City?"

Her gaze remained on the flashing frames ahead, intermittently casting her face artificial shades of pink and yellow. "No idea what you're talking about."

On further inspection, he saw she'd been watching old cartoons.

_Of course she is_.

Somehow, this had become the new normal. The Monday after their impromptu brunch, he returned from work to a uniform-clad CC heiress outside his apartment building waiting to be let in. The same thing happened the next evening, and two nights after that. Eventually, he decided to tell her about the spare key he kept behind a rusted iron panel on the roof and from that night on, he was regularly welcomed by the sight of a doodling, and often dozing, teen on his sofa. She helped herself to his fridge and reprogrammed his remote so all her favourite channels were a single click away.

Shutting his laptop, Goten extended his arms to the ceiling in a stretch and headed for the bathroom.

As he stepped into the passage, Goten paused when he realised she'd left the light on in his spare room again and crossed the hallway to turn it off, noting her school shirt draped over the corner of the single bed as he flicked the switch.

_I can almost guarantee that will still be there in the morning. _

When he returned to the living area, Bulla was kneeling on the floor with an assortment of colourful stationery and exercise books spread messily across his coffee table.

"What are you working on?" he asked, lowering down to join her.

"Calculus," she said into her textbook with a frown.

He picked up one of her pencils and began tapping it against an open page. Despite his brother being the clear academic between the two of them, Pan still seemed to prefer coming to her Uncle Goten for homework help when she had the chance - a small pleasure he'd never expected cherish. "Write down the problem for me, we can work on it together."

Bulla rooted around her backpack and pulled out a crumpled bag of potato chips, offering them to the older Saiyan as the two dug into her school work.

_Why do you keep coming around?_ he silently asked yet again, the question returning as he watched her read out the next problem. Goten nodded along, feigning attention each time she gazed up at him, but continued to wonder. It was hard to pose the question without putting her on the back foot however, and the few times he attempted to bring up anything personal, something as simple as her family, she closed right up, staring ahead as though she hadn't even heard him or swiftly changing the subject.

"Any ideas?" she said, pulling him back to their current task. Bulla looked up from her text book, expectant, while Goten stared back, completely blank.

They remained like this for a few empty seconds before the faint smile that was always quietly present when she spoke started to slip.

"Uh…" He faltered. "Let's take a five minute break." Goten pressed into his fists, shifting back to the couch behind them. Bulla followed, though more stiffly.

She reached for her half-eaten bowl of cereal and returned to her vacant cartoon watching.

"Pan always liked this one too," Goten said, pointing at the screen while he leaned his head to his fist, elbow bent along the back of the couch. "What's it called again?"

She didn't answer, and going by the way she was ignoring him right now, he couldn't be sure she'd even heard him.

After a few seconds he opened his mouth to speak again but she interrupted him.

"Do you think she's still out there?" Bulla said. "Somewhere."

Goten turned to look at her. "Of course she is," he said. "No one on earth could possibly hurt her." Bulla met his gaze and, to his surprise, she appeared doubtful. "We couldn't find her because she doesn't want to be found," he added more quietly. "And trust me, we looked. Your family and mine."

Memories he'd rather not revisit began to trickle through mental cracks. He and Trunks laboured for weeks searching for her, scouring every island, forest and sand dune they crossed. When Gohan finally got ahold of him, insisting they call it off_, _Goten's fingers were raw, his voice was hoarse, and he could no longer feel his limbs.

"What if she left earth?"

He readjusted, slouching further into the seat. "Your mom would be all over it in that case," he said. "No one is as capable of watching the planet's air space as Capsule Corp."

Bulla gave a small nod then asked, "Do you miss her?"

Goten went quiet, his ears beginning to ring.

"Would you miss me if I disappeared too?" she added when he didn't answer her.

He leaned away, narrowing his eyes at her. "Don't say stuff like that."

Bulla kept eating her cereal.

"I'm serious," he said. "And don't even think about putting your family through that, alright?"

She went quiet again before responding. "Why do you think she did it?"

Goten let out a sigh. Naturally, he'd asked himself the same question at least a thousand times before but no matter how he teased it apart, he could never reach a satisfying answer. She'd been frustrated, sure, but she was a good kid, and from a family who adored her. It was hard not to take it personally sometimes.

"I only have my suspicions," he said.

When he reached for the remote that had been sitting on the arm rest next to her, his elbow brushed over her sweater, causing her to flinch.

"Sorry," he said before continuing. "Something I can't help but come back to is how badly my dad's death hit her."

Her eyes weren't on the TV anymore. She was staring at the wall beneath, perhaps considering what he was saying.

"Even if we still had the dragon balls, there was no bringing him back and she took that harder than any of us." Goten dropped the volume so it was only a few clicks above mute. "Soon after, she started acting out. Sneaking off, breaking things. So much screaming," he exhaled, sinking into the sofa before turning to face Bulla again. "Did she ever say anything to you? Something that, in hindsight, could have been a clue that she was thinking about running away?"

Bulla shook her head slowly, still staring at the floor. The echoing pangs left by his niece had him mulling the halfling in front of him - another young girl full of promise clearly guarding her own secrets.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, twisting in his seat to observe her more carefully. Her only reaction was to glance at him out of the corner of her eye, as though she were a grazing gazelle on high alert for approaching predators.

Goten changed his mind when he realised her eyes were beginning to well, then streak red. Bulla remained silent and if he hadn't been sitting so close to her, he would easily have missed the tremble of her lip, followed by a clench in her jaw so strong the muscle running past her temple visibly tensed.

"Bulla, what's wrong?" he said, taking her bowl from her lap and resting it on her text book.

When he returned to her, hand resting on the couch's spine, he wasn't sure what to do. Whenever Pan got upset, her preferred next move was finding the nearest door to exit through and slam, but Bulla just sat there, idle, like a lamb.

He reached for her shoulder but she dodged him and bee-lined for the bathroom, locking herself inside.

Goten leaned the back of his head to the sofa with a sigh. He was painfully out of his element when it came to teenage girls, even when he had been thirteen years younger and desperately trying to date them.

_It's a delicate age, _he reminded himself, a dusty door in his mental attic creaking open after more than half a decade of disuse. _And she's not her brother_.


	3. Flesh

Had some issues with formatting with this one since this website doesn't show certain symbols or emojis apparently? I swear they worked at one point. Anyway, I've tried to sort it as best I can but feel free to check out the chapter on AO3 if you'd like to see their text convo how I originally intended.

Cheers

* * *

Goten strode along the busy central sidewalk, hands in his pockets as he filtered out West City's constant aural assault. Perhaps it was time for another visit to his mother, he thought as a firing jackhammer drilled through his ears. He could only handle so many consecutive months of concrete and car horns over meadows and birdsong before he needed a recharge.

His phone began to ring in his pocket.

"This is Goten," he said, pressing it to his ear.

_"Oh, so you are alive then," _a high-pitched voice replied from the other side.

"Good morning, Bulla," he smiled into the receiver, casting his glance upward and watching a mammoth crane carry a thick bundle of steel beams to the roof of a new skyscraper twenty storeys up.

_"Why aren't you replying to my texts?" _she scolded.

"I was in a meeting, I've only just left the office." He could hear her fiddling with something in the background, the sound of hard plastic hitting plastic. "What are you doing?"

_"When you look at my messages you'll know," _she said. _"Do it now. It's urgent!"_

He came upon a food cart and squashed his phone between his ear and his shoulder, holding up eight fingers for the vendor. "Yes Ma-am," Goten said, handing over his card as she ended the call.

"Grabbing some food for the team?" the grinning merchant asked, passing eight paper-wrapped hot dogs to the wide-eyed demi-Saiyan.

"Uh, sure." Goten laughed, nodding his head in thanks before leaving. He would have been happy to order more, but logistically he had nowhere to put all the extra food while he made his way back.

_Let's see what Bulla wants this time. _He stopped at the nearest bench and stacked his lunch onto the wooden slats.

Opening the message thread, he found his phone screen filling up with photos. Of Bulla.

Goten exhaled and sat down next to his lunch. _Why is she sending me this? _There must have been fifteen, at least, with Bulla in various poses - one hand on her hip, holding up a peace sign, pulling a face, tongue out, lips puckered. It went on and on.

He scrolled to the end before typing.

** Am I meant to know what to do with these? **

_** \- Pick one!**_

** ?**

_**\- Omg you're so dense sometimes. **__**just pick a dress. Which one looks best on me?**_

He hadn't even realised her outfit had been changing between photos.

** I don't know? Isn't this a question for your girlfriends? or your mom?**

_** \- My friends are all at school rn so can't talk and mom is always too busy so she just gave me her credit card. **_

That was a good point.** Wait, why aren't YOU at school right now? **Goten replied

_** \- Goten pleeease**_

** Fine**

He sighed as he scrolled back up, looking more carefully this time. Someone sat down next to him and Goten instinctively pulled his phone a little closer.

** Second last. Light blue, **he told her.

_**\- okay thanks. **_

_** \- Why that one?**_

_Ugh. _Goten groaned to himself, leaning his head back. Now he had to justify his choice? He decided not to reply and bundled up his lunch, taking the route back to his office building, though he could feel his phone vibrating every few seconds in his pocket.

He waved his access card over the scanner once he reached the immaculate glass front and nodded at the guard who watched the entrance.

Once at his desk, Goten pulled his phone out again.

_**\- Are I you saying I look pretty **_**(:**

_**\- Goootennn**_

**\- ?**

_**\- I was actually leaning towards the red.**_

_Definitely not the red_, he thought.

** Process of elimination, **he finally replied. **What's the occasion anyway? They look a little fancy for regular daytime wear.**

_** \- There's a dance next month ^-^**_

"Son." He heard his boss' voice and put his phone aside. "Got a sec? I've got Mrs Makara on the line and I have no goddamn idea what she's talking about."

"Transfer her over," Goten replied. "I'll deal with it."

Once he was alone, he tapped at his phone screen.

** Gotta go. I'll see you later?**

_**\- I'm bringing fruit loops tonight. You're running out **_**:***

He wasn't. He'd bought a few extra boxes the last time he'd been to the store, but had to keep them hidden from her lest they disappear within the hour.

**Go to school you delinquent.**

* * *

"Why did you stop coming around?" Bulla asked one evening, braiding her hair at his kitchen bench while he emptied the bag of macaroni she had picked out earlier. He was in the middle of making dinner for the two of them, entertaining their usual evening banter, and hadn't been expecting the question. She had a way of doing that, he found - catching him off guard when, by all rights, _he _should have been the one keeping _her_ on her toes.

"Trunks and I grew apart, I guess." He flicked on the extractor as steam wafted upward. "That happens sometimes as you get older."

"Liar." Bulla was removing bright coloured clips from her collar and reattaching them in her hair.

He looked up at her, eyebrow quirked.

"That's such a lame, adult, answer," she said, crossing her arms on the countertop. "What really happened?"

"Nothing _happened._" He returned to the pot. Maybe that was a lie. Plenty had happened, and he knew exactly which night severed the final strand. "I just..." She was positively fixed, giving him little room to squirm out of the conversation. "I started to get a little weary of him after a while."

"Weary?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I got tired of his stupid games, and taking the fall every time he had another ridiculous whim." Goten tapped his spoon against the rim, knuckles paling as his fingers gripped the handle.

Bulla hopped off her stool and joined him at the stove. "I wonder if Pan and I would have grown apart too."

He observed her as she came towards him, now wondering the same thing.

"What's this?"

He reached for her wrist when she went for the spoon. She was still in her uniform and her school sweater was bunched up at her elbows.

"What?"

"This." He gripped her arm. The skin on the underside was bruised, specks of purple, blue and green dotted all around. How had he never noticed this before?

It occurred to him then: Bulla always wore long sleeves when she visited, even when she changed into her regular clothes. As spring drew to a close and summer crawled in, the days were growing warmer and yet, even so, she insisted on staying in her sweaters.

He lifted her arm to check the opposite side and, as suspected, another string of bruises greeted him. Immediately, he looked to her other arm but she shoved it behind her back before he had a chance to see.

"Who did this?" he said.

"Did what?"

"Tell me, Bulla. Right now."

"No one." She ripped her arm from his grip. "I just hurt myself at school the other day."

He didn't buy it and maintained his glare.

"Do you really think anyone is actually capable of making me bruise?" she scolded him. "I'm just as much a Saiyan as you are, you know."

That took some of the edge off. Perhaps he had been a bit too hasty.

"Chill out." She returned to the pot, stealing a piece of par-boiled pasta. "You're starting to show your age. I'm not your daughter, remember? Or your niece for that matter."

Her words hit harder than he would have liked to admit, and after that, he forced himself to let it go. He saw where the helicopter approach got his brother.

"Sorry," he said, voice softening. "I just-"

"Forget it," she mumbled, pulling her sleeves down. "When's the food going to be ready?"

After draining the macaroni, he set it on the stove for the two to dig in.

They ate in silence on his balcony, letting the steady hum of West City fill the space between them, along with the occasional squelch from Bulla's plate.

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" she said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Goten immediately coughed, pounding his chest after choking on his soda. Once recovered, he said, "Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Who says I don't?"

"Touché." He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray and sat back in his recliner. _I wonder if it's that little punk from that night outside the laundromat._

"Do you ever get lonely?"

He lifted the eyelid closest to her. "Maybe I would if this weirdo kid didn't keep turning up at my apartment every other day."

Bulla hugged her knees to her chest, tucking them under her sweatshirt with a giggle as her phone buzzed on the table next to her.

"That must be the fabled boyfriend right now," he said, closing his eyes again, but she ignored the call.

"Can we watch a movie?" she asked, standing up and gathering their plates.

Goten checked the time. It was heading towards nine and he was already starting to doze. "Go pick something," he called as she headed inside. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

He pushed himself up and walked to the railing, leaning against cool iron as he watched the pedestrians below and savoured the final drags of his smoke. Bulla's phone was still on the end table and began vibrating again. With a lazy twist, Goten caught the caller ID, _Trunks, _and couldn't stop himself staring at the name.

"We need more ice cream." Bulla wandered back outside, guilty tub in hand while a metal spoon dangled from her mouth.

Shaking his head, a smile tugged on Goten's lips, earning himself a muffled "What?" as she looked back at him with those large eyes she never seemed to grow into, still licking her spoon.

"Fine." He turned from the rail. "Go grab your jacket."

"Can I driv-?" Before the question was completely out, he'd already tossed her his keys. "Yesss!"

* * *

The last day he'd seen her was not unlike any other. It was a Friday, the temperature was rising, and he'd had a trying week. Come five-thirty, he was only too eager to ditch the office and unwind in his personal haven, perhaps even crack a beer or two. He tried not to drink when Bulla was around but considered making an exception for tonight.

There wasn't any doubt in his mind she'd be at his apartment when he arrived. While he would occasionally go without seeing her a day or two during the week, Bulla religiously came around on weekends. Even when he had his own plans, she remained at his place, greeting him like a resident cat sprawled across his lounge suite in the afternoon sun. Not a week went by that he didn't end up having to peel a book from her limp hands, or shifting her pillow so she didn't earn herself a stiff neck.

_Don't your parents wonder where you are all the time? _he'd silently ask, clearing fine hair from her nose and pulling up the slipped throw.

Just two days before, she'd hinted that Vegeta was largely out of the picture and he was inclined to believe her. Pan wasn't the only one who took his father's passing poorly and Goten remembered seeing less and less of the prince during his own residual days at Capsule Corp.

The comment got him thinking.

Bulla had been notoriously attached to her father as a young girl and he couldn't help but wonder if _that_ was the seed from which all her quiet angst had sprouted. At the very least he doubted she particularly liked being away from him for such long stretches.

_Is that why she doesn't like talking about her family? _he wondered. _Or why she brought up Pan leaving earth? Does she think about doing that herself so she can be with her father?_

The pair exchanged a couple of "Heys" when he entered, the older half-Saiyan heading straight for his fridge.

Placing his bottle on the end table next to the armchair, Goten sat down with an exhale. Only the corner lamp was on, dimly lighting his living room and giving his eyes a much-needed break.

He loosened his tie and undid the buttons at his collar before doing the same with his cuffs. After untucking his shirt, he realised he had an audience.

"Yes?" he said, taking a sip.

Bulla ignored him and turned back to her phone.

_Whatever, _he shrugged, shuffling in his seat to find the remote. When he noted it was on the other sofa, he gave up. He wasn't leaving this spot for another hour at least. Instead, he pressed his thumb and forefinger to his closed lids and slouched into the chair.

"Rough day?" she said

"I guess." He sighed again.

"You seem tense."

"Just need to relax for a few minutes."

She didn't reply and he thought perhaps he was being a little inhospitable. At the very least, his mother would have been appalled by his idea of entertaining guests.

The TV was off, stereo was muted and he couldn't even hear her tapping at her phone, so Goten broke the silence. "How was school?"

When she failed to respond a second time, he cracked open an eye, finding she was no longer there.

He twisted in his chair, looking to the hallway. "Bulla?" He couldn't hear her in the bathroom, and the bedroom lights were off.

Just then, she appeared in the doorway, small socks a stark white against his dark varnished floors. Dressed only in her checkered school skirt, loose hair draped either side of her bra, sparsely covering bare skin as she hovered in the arch.

"Bulla," he groaned, immediately shielding his eyes once he realised what he'd just caught an eyeful of. "C'mon."

She padded forward, floorboards creaking under her feet as she came to a stop between his legs. The hem of her skirt kissed against his slacks, brushing his inner thighs as she drew closer.

"What are you doing?" he said, gaze sharply averted while he kept his attention on the adjacent wall.

He felt her building weight as she climbed on top of him, knees resting either side of his hips while he forced himself deeper into the back of the seat.

Bulla reached for his hand and pressed it to her side, squeezing the back of his palm over her waist.

"What," he repeated through gritted teeth. "Are you doing?"

"Helping you relax," she said, though she sounded different to the Bulla he had grown familiar with. Finally, he forced himself to look at her. From his lap, Bulla gazed at him, soft but dazed. The look sailed right through him, as though he wasn't even there. As though _she _wasn't even there.

"Get off me," he uttered, trying his best to remain calm. When she didn't seem to hear him, he said it again and lifted his hands uselessly, loathe to put them anywhere near her and remove her himself.

Nimble fingers sliding under his shirt and dragging along his stomach put the flame under him, causing her to stumble backwards and scratch at his skin as he jumped out of the seat.

"What is wrong with you?!" he exclaimed.

She looked confused, but between the two of them Goten felt he had the monopoly on being disoriented by the turn their evening had taken.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" she said.

"What?!" he said. "No!"

The two stared at each other from across his living room floor in a complete stalemate. How could she possibly think this was what he wanted?

The sickening drag in his stomach pulled with equal torment at his face, twisting his frown into a pain-ridden scowl.

"Get out." White-knuckled fingers clenched at his roots as Goten lost grip. He was seconds away from exploding but Bulla didn't move. "**Leave**."

Her eyes were starting to fill again, but he was too enraged to dial it back.

Seeing how closely her teenage crumpled face resembled that of when she was a baby only plunged the dagger deeper.

This had to stop right now, all of it.

"Give me your key." He opened his palm, hot bile burning like fire up his throat. "Get dressed, give me the spare key and walk through that door."

She turned to the couch, slipping on her shirt and letting it hang open while she searched vacantly through her bag.

After finding the lone key and dropping it into his hand, she did as instructed, walking towards the entrance.

As Bulla stepped through the threshold, he said to her retreating back, "I don't ever want to see you here again, do you understand me?"

He was still seeing red as he bore into the closed door and returned to the living area to pick up his beer.

When he gripped the neck, another wave pulsed and Goten flung the bottle at his bookshelf, watching as tiny shards of reflective dust shattered outward and straw-coloured foam burst forth, blanketing his paperbacks.


	4. Howling

So here we are, short though perhaps not so sweet. I told some of you after the last chapter I was going to have the finale out within a week. Then I blinked and almost two weeks passed ️:| this isolation business is really messing with my sense of time.

Thank you for making it this far and sharing your encouragement. As always, it's super appreciated.

Extra thanks to Sunshine Spray for going over this fic during it's rough draft last year and helping with my blindspots so I could shape this story into something I was eventually satisfied enough with to post 💜

Stay safe, everyone.

**EDIT**: so it looks like there's some confusion over what's happened, and to some it may seem I've left a few gaping holes. Unlike Collide, this one isn't open-ended. I promise you, 90% of the answers you're looking for are within the story. You don't need to reread if you don't feel like it, I already appreciate that you gave it a chance in the first place. The intention was to present a story where all the pieces are provided to you, but I don't hold anyone's hand while you put it together. It's experimental, I've definitely done an imperfect job, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Thank you again for giving this fic a look

* * *

Goten was waiting in a temporary holding cell when the guard returned, telling him his lawyer had arrived. He was led to a private meeting room and ushered through when he saw Mack sitting in a chair with his back to the entrance. The guard left them alone and shut the door.

Naturally, Goten had been hoping he was here with good news, but the grim look on Quincy's face did not leave him optimistic.

"What's happened?" Goten kicked things off, placing his cuffed hands on the table.

"Look," the lawyer said, clearing his throat and straightening his jacket. "I've tried to help you as best I can, but I can only do so much when you refuse to tell me the whole story."

Goten shook his head, perplexed.

"I have two words for you." Mack raised his thumb, then his index. "Aggrevated. Assault."

Heat drained as Goten sank into his chair, and Mack leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I'm your lawyer, you idiot. Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"I'm sorry." Goten ran his hand down his face. "I didn't mean to keep it from you. I just…"

"Forgot?" Mack inched closer. "Forgot that you beat someone hard enough that he needed physical therapy for two years and now walks with a cane?"

_Is that what really ended up happening?_ Goten reared at the update. Last he'd heard, the guy had made a full recovery within three months. Trunks had covered all the medical expenses himself as well as provided a financial donation healthy enough that no one would ever learn of the incident or, more importantly, what really happened that night. In hindsight, of course Trunks knew just the right thing to tell him to get it off his tortured conscience.

"That wasn't m-" Goten interrupted himself, taking a moment. "Trunks said he'd take care of it," he corrected course. "Make it all go away."

"Well, Trunks was mistaken," Mack hissed through his teeth. "And this little mark on your record is enough to throw our entire defense down the gurgler." The lawyer reached for his briefcase and dropped it onto the table with a thud. "And let's not forget-"

From inside, he pulled out a handful of A4 photographs.

"CCTV footage of you and the girl palling all around the city," he said, pressing his fingers to three of the images and sliding them towards the half-Saiyan. "Her uniform in a garbage bag stashed at the bottom of your spare room cupboard." He presented another. "A secret phone belonging to Ms Briefs wedged between the seats of your living room sofa."

Goten hadn't thought about the clothes, shoved amongst his stored junk in a moment of anger with the intention of trashing it all eventually, though never actually following through. The phone thing was news to him, though she did have a habit of keeping it muted. It's possible it slipped down the side of his couch during her last visit and she had been too upset to come back for it.

"That's all circumstantial though," Goten said. "What does it even prove?"

"They've just found her body."

Goten's eyes bulged, blood freezing in his veins as his heart stopped beating altogether.

That had to be a mistake. Bulla Briefs was alive.

"Where?" Goten asked.

"A few kilometres from your old place in Mount Paozu."

_What?_

The lawyer kept talking but Goten didn't hear what came after. All outside noise faded as the half-Saiyan's mind skipped like a faulty record, withdrawing him from the compact side-room and into his fracturing subconscious.

_I don't... understand._

"... time of death around four weeks ago," Quincy continued, reading off his notes, apparently unaware of the progressively unraveling man in front of him. "... places your apartment as one of the last places she's likely to have visited before she died."

Goten could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response.

"Someone was out wandering the hills with their dog. The heat must have allowed the scent to travel through the soil…"

Goten drifted out again as the external chatter persisted, his eyes starting to sting and knees beginning to shake. _They've got it wrong._

"Corroborating accounts claim you pay regular visits to your mother out that way." Mack looked up, peering at him over his glasses while Goten stared at the metal door behind his chair, numb. "Goten."

"... Yes," he said, voice a throaty rumble.

"They've been in touch with your employer." Mack carefully lowered his papers and interlocked his fingers on the table. "The Monday after Bulla disappeared, you didn't go in to work."

Slowly, Goten closed his eyes.

_I was right there._

"Your leave request states visiting your ailing mother as the reason." The lawyer looked up, as though waiting for a response. When he was met with none, he added, "They've analysed the sample under the girl's fingernails. Do I need to tell you whose DNA came back as a positive match?"

_From when she scratched_ _me_. Goten couldn't trust his voice, instead tightening his first in his lap as he was forced to remember the night he'd long tried to forget. He couldn't see it at the time but she'd needed him, desperately, and he'd sent her away in a selfish rage.

"How?" Goten finally said, sounding hollow even to himself.

"Excuse me?"

"How did she…" Visible tears were beginning to pool against the half-Saiyan's lower lids.

Mack watched him for a few seconds before letting out a heavy sigh. "I'll put this in the words of the pathologist: Whoever did this to her." He paused, seemingly watching for Goten's reaction. "They were mad. Furious is probably the better term."

The hybrid's face slowly twisted as his pulse throbbed painfully in his ears.

"There was another body in there," Mack added. "With her."

Goten looked up, barely having a chance to register the comment before the lawyer continued.

"Also young. Also female."

_No._ He squeezed his eyes, fingers clenching in his palm until the metal of his cuffs groaned. "Don't say it."

_Please_.

"Forensic testing confirms it was your missing niece."

The low light hanging above their heads exploded, causing Mack to duck, though Goten didn't flinch.

Immediately, their guard opened the door but the lawyer's hand was up, gesturing that all was fine. "Electrical fault. Everything's under control." Once the door was closed, Mack kept going. "Judging by the level of decay, they believe she's been there for somewhere between three and five years."

He continued for a few more minutes, but Goten had already heard everything he needed to. While his lawyer talked logistics and defense strategies for the weeks to come, the half-Saiyan's focus refined.

During the course of their meeting, Goten had bitten down on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to stop his jaw from chattering. The taste of iron was harsh on his tongue and the bitterness only further fueled the single vision in his mind's eye.

All he could see was red, his hands painted with it while a viscous pool grew at his feet.

"... we'll need to lean on her to help your defense." Mack prattled on.

Goten breathed in slowly, then out, his thoughts overtaken with the face of one man.

He urged himself to remain calm as raw heat cried at his fingertips, begging to be called forth while he kept his head turned and eyes guarded from view as they threatened to flicker unnatural shades of telling teal.

_I have to bring them back. _

Sweat slipped passed his temple and down his clenched jaw, hanging off the tip of his chin and trembling with each restrained energy surge.

Whatever it took, he would see both girls again. But first, there was something Goten needed to take care of and he would not be satisfied with anything less than blood.


End file.
